I know...

...that, at times, my site can read a bit bleak.  The material that is on this blog isn't really that chipper anymore, and I feel I owe the reader some sort of explanation.  First and foremost, let me begin by stating that I tend to use my Xanga as a vent. I come here to let loose the things that I cannot voice aloud, and therefore it is often of an emotional and dramatic origin.  I do not come here and idly chatter about my day's activities.  That's what fb is for.  Xanga means something more to me. Something deeper and more open.  I am allowed to speak here.  I am allowed to feel here.  And, so I do.

Secondly, I am fighting an ongoing war with depression. I have my dark days. I have my manic days.  But more and more often, I have my grey days.  My apathetic and unfeeling days. I have several close friends who are PhD level counselors, and they have suggested some of the same avenues that I am contemplating.  It's been a very, very long time in the making, but I am starting to lose my battles with this "nemesis" of mine more often than I win.  I have piled on and piled on, so that I don't have any wiggle room anymore.  So, it's time to "not just talk about it, BE about it".

So, that's why the doom and gloom tends to settle here.

But honestly, I'm doing well enough. I'm in school and have a 3.76 GPA. I'm starting a small business soon (if I can shake the apathy enough to focus).  I've made a few new friends, and well...there's other stuff, i'm sure.

Well, I miss you guys...those people who I know read this.  I would love to have a day when we could all hang out again, but the realist that has grown inside of me understands that's not possible. (the dreamer in me hates that realist guy with a passion) But, I truly do miss you peeps.  Hey, maybe one day...huh? 

I'ma always dream a little... :)

unplugged

I'm so disconnected from my emotions now.  I feel them under the surface...or want to feel them under the surface, but to what purpose?  Who will see what I'm feeling beyond me?  Who can understand outside of myself?  People play at concern, but are seldom capable of seeing beyond themselves and their own needs.  There are no heroes, no saints, no guardians, no mentors.  Everyone falls, everything fails.  It's inevitable. So why show them anything of myself beyond the half-smile and the false persona?  They won't understand why or how I've reached this point, and I don't have the energy left to explain it all again.

I would love to feel like I used to be able to.

But instead, it's a time for jack o'lanterns.

Parting Wayz

Life is strange, fate is fickle, and the amusement i find in the whole experience is well worth the wait.

I just finished chatting with a friend of mine who very well could have been THE love of my life, had it not been for one miniscule decision on my part.  I can see the very point that two paths in the story of my life ceased to run parallel and the path on which i would tread was chosen.  Whether I chose correctly or incorrectly is not significant.  I chose and have lived in the resulting consequences of said decision.  I am more intrigued by the knowledge of that precise moment.  The split second that changed the outcome of so many lives.  Truly, bloodlines and fortunes shifted on that moment.  There are people in this world today who would not exist without that second in time.

Something as inocuous as ending a conversation prematurely and walking into the living room.  Future 1 or Future 2.  Girl A or Girl B.  I chose the girl in my living room.  And the girl on the phone in Egypt continued down the path.  I felt the very instant that our paths parted.  I knew.  And that knowing is what intrigues me.

Very few people in this world have the intuitive ability to feel the shifts in the fabric of life that guide our thread along the loom.  I feel blessed to have felt this one.  I plan to write more on this topic at a "not-quite-so-early" moment, but as it is 4 in the morning,  I wanted to get this idea out and recorded as swiftly as possible.

Shadows (re-style)

Shadows

No man

is without a shadow. 

Some dark thing

that trails behind him

in his wake. 

Some shaded deed

or thought

that he has sown

in his past. 

Even

in the brightest

midday sun

he need only

pick up his feet

to witness it

hiding there. 

There are many

who would deny

their own shadows,

running

as if to escape

that which is

a part of them. 

There are those

who will tell you

that they

have no shadow,

as though

one

could not see it

stretching out

behind them. 

And some

become obsessed

with their shadow. 

They spend

their lifetimes

chasing it,

as though it

were something

they might change

if they

were to catch it. 

There are also those

who opt to live

within their shadows. 

Not satisfied

with the darkness

of their own making,

they seek

to encase themselves

in the shadows of others. 

Cultivating them. 

Urging them

to grow,

so that

they might sit

under the shade

made by

the ugliness

and sorrow of all men. 

I once

lived

in my shadow. 

I once

hated

my shadow

and attempted

to deny

that part of me. 

Now

 I understand

that it is

me. 

I

am it. 

And therefore,

I can enjoy

the feeling

of the sun

on my face,

knowing

that as I move forward,

the shadow

of the things

I have done

trails behind me

to mark

the passing

of a boy

who has grown

into the man

I am today.

                                    -Gilberto Garza

why we can't be friends